


Gossip

by cartoonlandofmysteries



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, basically christmas comes early for franky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartoonlandofmysteries/pseuds/cartoonlandofmysteries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I threw this together after 3x08- Gidge can't wait to tell Franky all about the new member of the wlw in Wentworth Club (the wlww, if you will).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gossip

_See you soon, darling xo_

_**Can’t wait xxxx** _

A strand of Bridget’s fringe stuck to her lipstick as the sharp evening breeze whipped around her grinning face as she made her way out of the prison and towards her car. Rereading her texts to Franky, Bridget picked up her pace to a canter as she neared the vehicle, the anticipation to share her day with her growing stronger with every step. 

She loved to see Franky excited. It was a particular quirk about her that Bridget adored. Her theatrical smile reminded her of a child (the swearing, on the other hand, did not. But that was endearing in its own way). It was proof that she hadn’t been broken down by the system. It meant that the potential for true and utter happiness was very real for Franky, and that made Bridget’s heart burst with pride.

Throwing her bag onto the passenger seat and shifting the car into gear, she haphazardly grasped for her seatbelt as she drove through the carpark, finally clicking it into place as she merged into traffic.

\--

Arriving home to a house with lights shining through the windows was something Bridget was yet to get used to. As always, she took a moment to smile, knowing that her heart and her home resided in the same space. 

Stepping through the front door, she was greeted, as always, with an assault on her senses, beckoning her towards the open plan living area. 

Soft music floated through the air, drowned out by a “Heya!” thrown over Franky’s shoulder as she drained pasta from a pot.

Discarding her bag on the lounge, Bridget sidled over to Franky, playfully nudging her with her hip by way of greeting as she lifted a spoon from a second pot to her lips.

“Oh! That is divine,” she praised, dipping the spoon back into the sauce for a second taste.

Franky smiled as she replaced the pot on the cooktop, stepping back to lean against the kitchen island; her vantage point from which to check out her girlfriend.

“So, how was the ol’ slammer today?” 

“…Interesting,” Bridget replied coyly, taking a step towards her, also dragging her eyes up the woman in front of her.

“The Freak hasn’t suggested a three-way has she?” Franky’s voice catching slightly as Bridget closed in.

“No,” Bridget murmured, lightly grasping the ends of Franky’s unbuttoned jacket.

“Vinegar Tits?” Franky smirked, quickly softening her smile, knowing Bridget was perturbed by the nickname. 

“It’s Red, isn’t it?” she tried again, tempering Bridget’s hardened expression.

Basking in the dramatics of a held secret, Bridget lightly skimmed her lips over Franky’s once, twice, before kissing her deeply. 

“So, dinner?” Bridget said, pulling back and turning away to the cutlery drawer.

“Wait, Gidge!?” Franky gaped. “What happened?”

“Dinner first,” Bridget grinned with a wink.

\--

Conversation was stunted in light of the elephant in the room, but Bridget made sure that they were well into dinner before she disclosed anything.

“So,” Bridget began, aloofly twirling a strand of pasta with her fork. “I had this session today-“

“Miss Westfall!” Franky interrupted with her best Vera impression. “You’re not about to break a patient-therapist confidentiality pact, are you?”

Bridget narrowed her eyes at Franky’s smug grin.

“Of course not!” she replied in the same tone. 

She waited until Franky’s gaze had returned to her pasta, then quickly muttered, “But Bea and I did have a lovely chat about sexuality,” drawing out the last syllable, her eyes trained on the woman in front of her. 

Franky’s head rose slowly, an even slower grin consuming her face.

“Fuck off,” she uttered, small chunks of pasta still resting on her tongue.

Bridget’s smug grin turned to a chuckle. Her eyebrows lifted as she nodded.

“I’m serious! She asked me about ‘gate gays’,” she said, bobbling her head at the quote

Franky merely stared at Bridget’s crinkled smile for a few moments before erupting, “RED’S A DYKE!”

She lurched back in her chair, her face contorted with mirth. 

Almost instantly, she sat back up.

“Who’s she fucking?” she asked seriously.

Bridget, who had been giggling as she watched Franky process the news, merely shrugged. 

“She didn’t say.”

Franky shook her head incredulously. 

“Sly dog!”

“But,” Bridget drawled impishly.

“Fuck, Gidge! Stop holdin’ out on me!” Franky rose and stood in front of Bridget’s angled chair, resting one knee between her legs, and using both hands to hold Bridget’s face mere inches from her own.

“There is a member of Kaz’s crew who I’ve noticed has… been rather attentive towards her. They’ve not been obvious, but I think something must be happening behind closed doors.” 

Franky gasped.

“Fraternising with the enemy! Well, she’s hardly the first. It’s kinda hot.”

Bridget pinned her with a knowing smirk, and hummed her agreement.

“So what’s this chick look like? Bit like this?” Franky said, releasing one of Bridget’s cheeks and gesturing to herself. “I knew she’d miss me.”

Bridget lightly shook her head in exasperation.

“Actually, if I’m right, she’s blonde.”

“Red’s got a thing for blondes?” Franky beamed. “Can’t say I blame her,” she added, with a roll of her shoulder.

“Yes well, darling, you were slightly more obvious about it.”

“Piss off!”

Bridget raised a hand from Franky’s hips to wipe a small smudge of pasta sauce from Franky’s mouth. She felt Franky tense ever so subtly with the intimate gesture.

“So, what if I was still inside? Do you reckon we’d be sneaking around like Queen Bea and her Royal Dyke?”

“Well, I’d like to think I’d remain professional, but,” Bridget sighed sweetly, “I think it’s likely I would have broken.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

With a suggestive raise of her eyebrows, Franky removed her knee from Bridget’s chair, stacked the dishes on the table and carried them to the kitchen sink.

Bridget waited a few moments, then followed, a pink tinge rising like mercury up the length of her neck. She paused by the kitchen island and squared her shoulders.

Franky filled the sink with soapy water, tracking her movements from behind her as hypersensitivity perked her senses.

“Franky,” Bridget intoned, using a voice that hit Franky low in the stomach; a voice she knew well. 

She spun around.

“Knew you couldn’t resist,” she teased in a tone just as deep, clicking her tongue. She tilted her gaze upwards to the cornicing of the ceiling. “I repositioned the cameras for you… as much as I’d love to give the screws a show.”

Bridget strode towards her, concern threading her brows.

“That’s not a solution, Franky. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the officers was on their way right now to fix it.” 

“It’s only temporary…” Franky whispered, grabbing Bridget’s hands and pulling her backwards into the hallway, “…so that we can hide in here,” she punctuated every second syllable with a step backwards.

Kicking the door to the small laundry open, Franky pulled them both inside.

“The storage room? Franky I don’t know,” Bridget hesitated.

“You want me, don’t ya,” Franky whispered, tucking Bridget’s fringe behind her ear, and tracing a slow line back along her jaw.

“Yes,” Bridget breathed, her eyes fluttering shut, fingers tightening on Franky’s hips

“Well…?”

Bridget’s eyes opened with a spark of determination, and she lunged forward to press her lips against Franky’s.


End file.
